The Cold War isn't thawing it is burning with a deadly heat
by lyanna419
Summary: A KGB agent and little chop shop girl from East Berlin...Their story.
1. Chapter 1

It was a warm summer night in East Berlin. The air was thick and quiet, the crickets themselves held their breath, watching, waiting with the man in the shadows. Two sharp blue eyes glared steadily at the chop shop across the street, as if by shear force of will those eyes could penetrate the wooden barrier and gaze upon the subjects within. Had the targets waited much longer perhaps such a feat would have been achieved so intense was the glare. As fate would have it, the targets did not wait. A black car pulled out of the shop, the Teller girl at the wheel…seemingly by herself. But East Berlin was full of peril and that night the peril was red with fierce blue eyes that gazed through the car and it's single occupant, and rested on the American CIA agent lying in the back seat.

Illya Kuryakin's heart held a steady rhythm as he moved into his car and pulled out behind them. While he couldn't technically see into the backseat of the car, years of KGB training had sharpened his senses to the point where he could be certain without a doubt that there were two bodies in that car rather than the advertised one. The American had clearly come there for the same purpose as he had. To bring in the Teller girl. Kuryakin's foot pushed down steadily on the gas pedal, they were the only to vehicles on the streets that night. Alone together in the dark. If these two weren't idiots they would realize very shortly that they were being followed.

When the reached the stoplight Kuryakin pulled up on the right side of the car. The Teller girl from the chop shop was aware of him. Not bothering to hide his purpose, he stared intently into the car willing her to look at him. Once he got her to meet his iron gaze the game would be up, the little girl would loose her nerve. He could already see the soft brown eyes mirroring those of a petrified bunny or startled deer, she would panic, inevitably making a mistake.

Observing her small tanned hands holding the wheel confidently and yet tensely Kuryakin was almost impressed by how calmly she held herself while attempting to casually answer the American's questions about him. "How many where there? Looking at us? Both hands on the wheel?" He knew the drill… Her brown eyes were bright with anticipation, but he could discern no obvious tremors. On her third glance at him, their eyes finally met, for the space of a heart beat, but rather than dread terror or even simple fear, Kuryakin watched the brown globes set in a mixture of apprehension and determination.

Any second now….(pling!) and….(pling) there it was. Waiting on the roar of the car taking off, Kuryakin lay back in his seat. The first bullet was a close shot from the rear of the car, he knew the American couldn't hit him without sitting up and would likely fire a first shot to throw his game off and then quickly maneuver for a second, lethal shot. The second he heard the first crack on the glass, his KGB training took over and he flung himself back to avoid the following shot. And then the chase was on.


	2. Chapter 2

Didn't feel great about this chapter. Honestly, I've written more chapters later on that I thought had a better flow. Considered scrapping the beginning and starting at a later part in the film, but I want to improve my writing style. And maybe by the end of this story I'll have an interesting record of how my writing style evolved. Thank you so much for those who have reviewed the story so far! Please read and let me know what you think. Hopefully you enjoy it. :)

Within seconds he was caught up to the little black car. The Teller girl pulled a number of surprisingly sharp turns, probably as directed by the American. Pulling his car next to theirs Kuryakin was moving to end the chase. The Teller girl whipped her head at him for one second and then the side of her car smashed into his and their cars were locked side by side in a whirl that indicated a superior driver. Kuryakin glanced into the other car. The American was sitting in the corner of the backseat, looking up from his paper with a sort of calm curiosity. This move was all her. The cars spun apart and they shot off down the road as Kuryakin's car was forced on to the right of a pile of rubble. "So the little chop shop girl could drive".

The cat and mouse game continued far longer than Kuryakin was comfortable with. While the American had not managed to kill or loose him in the winding roads of East Berlin. The American had skillfully maneuvered through the night like a cat, and it didn't help that the Teller girl was in no way helpless. After running after their car, almost successfully anchoring their car with his body and taking down several insufferable German officers Kuryakin was ready to end the chase. This was supposed to be a quiet, effective KGB extraction. His handler would not be pleased if he stirred up their half of Berlin in the middle of the night.

In a seemingly impossible move the girl had anchored the car between two walls in a narrow alleyway. Kuryakin bolted up the stairs after them, his legs beginning to ache and smart from the extreme exertion. The American took the Teller girl to the roof and bolted the roof door shut. Gunshots did nothing to budge the door so he darted around through an old woman's apartment and continued the chase.

The American had backup, they were on the boarder of the Berlin wall and there was a rope hooked across the wall to the roof. Kuryakin watched the Teller girl wrap her arms around the tall American and slip away from him over the wall. Tearing off his jacket he used it to slide down the rope after them. He could chase them to the ends of the world. The Americans took everything while sacrificing nothing. And yet everyone trusted them implicitly, it was the Russians, the Soviets that were always held in distrust and suspicion. The little chop shop girl was doing just like that. Trusting the American because he got their first, looked good, had the "open" "honest" "American" face. Kuryakin felt the rope slacken before he reached the wall and watched his targets vanish from his sight beyond the Berlin wall. Blood boiling, Kuryakin let go of the rope and dropped to the ground. For now she was gone, but the KGB's reach was not limited by the iron curtain, he would get to her. He had underestimated the American, that was a mistake he would not repeat. The temperature dropped within seconds as a cool breeze blew in from the north, putting a slight chill in the warm summer night. Storm winds were reaching beyond the iron curtain. There was a tempest was rising within the Russian man to match the storm in nature. Gusts of wind began to blow across the wall and lightening flickered across the dark sky reflecting in the fierce blue eyes glaring into the night. In just minutes he would pass through the wall and be after his prey.


	3. Chapter 3

It was too good to be true. Surely any minute she would awaken back in East Berlin. Gaby Teller had been waiting for this to happen for years. It wasn't that she hated cars, or being dirty. It was that she wanted so much more. All her life her family had pushed her to marry, have some children, settle down. She dreamed of adventure, music, color, bright noisy cities full of mystery, untold stories and unknown people. Wide open green fields full of crisp blue flowers, cold clear streams full of fish and frogs. Lazy warm sunny afternoons by a clean pool, and most of all, the ocean. Everything that life in East Berlin was not.

Now was her chance. Solo had done the impossible and rescued her from East Berlin. She had a work to do for Waverly, she knew this mission wouldn't be a picnic, but whatever the future held for her. She intended to enjoy it while she could. Back in East Berlin she had scrounged around for abandoned records using her fathers abandoned record player to play them in the garage while she worked on the cars, and then once she was done she would pour some of her uncle's liquor and dance to the music all on her own. Had anyone been there they would have thought she was a lunatic, dancing to the music with the abandon of an American girl in a dark, abandoned car shop. But it was those nights that kept her sane, helped her forget that she was just a mechanic in East Berlin with no future, and no escape.

But that was then and this was now. The clothing shop Napoeon brought her to was phenomenal. Clean, bright and everything was expensive. When the American started pulling out clothes for her to try on her nose had wrinkled before she could rearrange it. The clothes were old fashioned and ugly, she had dreamed of slim and attractive clothing that would make her look like a woman rather than her normal teenage grease monkey look. It had been years since she had worn a dress, and while she enjoyed possessing skills that most women didn't, she also enjoyed feeling feminine and clean. In his calm, collected, and almost too charming way, Napoleon soothed her disappointment by explaining that for the cover it was necessary that she dress the part of a typical woman beyond the iron curtain. Or at least what Americans thought a woman behind the iron curtain dressed like.

She was disappointed that she wouldn't get to dress in beautiful clothes, and instead would be dressing like…well she didn't know who dressed like that, but she looked fat, ancient, and felt like she must have gained years while she was dressed in the blue dress that looked as if it had been fitted for a giant puppet. Things could be worse she decided, there was no reason she still couldn't enjoy her newfound freedom and see the sights, she looked into her reflection in the mirror, not at the clothes, but at her face. Smiling back at herself she decided that nothing would ruin her newfound freedom.

A deep, thickly accented man's voice spoke right behind her: "My woman would never wear something like that". Gaby felt like a herd of icy footed ants were charging up her back into the roots of her hair. Why was there a Russian man standing right behind her scoffing at her clothes? She felt insulted even though she had already turned up her nose at them herself. Spinning around she found herself face to face with the KGB. It was the man from East Berlin who had chased her and Napoleon all through East Berlin. His tearing the back off her car was top of her list of why she found the man terrifying. The way he moved during the chase made her think of the super soldier stories the old ladies had told about the war, men who were impervious to bullets, could run faster than normal men, and had the strength of 10 men. If he did that to her metal car, she didn't stand a chance against him. A fact that made her furious. "What's he doing here?" she asked Napoleon while glaring at the too calm Russian towering over her. "I am your fiancé" the blond Russian responded, not bothering to wait for Napoleon to answer her. His eyes did not move as he stared directly at her, they were the same cold blue eyes that had followed her in East Berlin. Either he was still trying to capture her, or the intense glare was just how he looked at people. Holding his iron gaze for just a moment longer Gaby thought to herself in frustration "is the man incapable of blinking?!" She was seething at this new development. For years she had been desperately ready to get away from the KGB which had somehow wormed its way across the Berlin Wall and back into her life. Tearing off the jewelry Napoleon had put on her she tossed them into a chair as she stormed from the room. As she pushed the door open she heard Napoleon tell the Russian "smoothly done", his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Napoleon followed her into the street. The morning sun was shining brightly on the sidewalk. It didn't take long for Napoleon to get her back inside. In reality, she already had her orders from Waverly, she was to go along with whatever the American proposed. All the while hiding her true cover. The Russian she had not counted on. After escaping over the wall she had felt safe from him. The wall was built to keep people in even more than to keep them out. The KGB belonged in Russia and once out, she hadn't given the Russian a second thought, other than to shudder over his abnormal size and strength after a flashback. This was, however, her job and assessing her behavior she felt that her reaction actually seemed like the most natural, which was of course what Waverly would have wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

When she re-entered the shop with Napoleon they found the Russian sorting through racks of dresses like he owned the place. Watching him select women's clothing with such ease, Gaby wondered if he had come from money, or if the knowledge was part of his KGB training. _Or maybe he had a rich girlfriend back in Moscow?_ Chuckling to herself at the thought, Gaby slipped passed the two men who had begun to bicker over various clothing choices for her. For once she decided she would be assertive, find something she thought looked fun and just wear it. There were so many clothes in the back room. There was a sales clerk, only slightly taller than her and about the same age with blond hair. She deftly pulled out an orange and cream outfit that looked much more to Gaby's taste. Shooting a thankful smile at the clerk Gaby quickly pulled on the outfit spending a swift moment to observe her reflection she heard the two men arguing over some clothing related nonsense. Taking a deep breath she stepped out and walked forward towards Napoleon and their new Russian partner. She attempted her most careless voice and said: "Did you see the price of this handbag? It costs more than my car." To her satisfaction, the Russian man couldn't take his eyes off of her. Not bothering to hide his appreciation, the KGB man looked her over intently and then turned to Napoleon and in his thick Russian accent said "you can get back on your horse cowboy". Despite herself Gaby was impressed by the Russian's ability to sweep Napoleon out the door so quickly and effectively. Admiration quickly faded to aggravation as she realized that Mr. KGB had no intention of leaving her to herself once Napoleon had departed.

Without warning he took hold of her hand. His hands were cold, even for a Russian and Gaby felt her hands flinch as his enormous hand confidently grasped her fingers, holding them in place, and slipped an intricate, expensive and beautifully fashioned diamond ring on her ring finger. "Now we are engaged, congratulations" he told her, passively, as if he regularly bestowed the title of Mrs. KGB on women he just met.

It didn't take long for them to finish selecting Gaby's wardrobe. Agent Kuryakin took charge making the purchases and arranging to have them taken to their hotel. Gaby used the distraction to slip outside for a few moments of alone time. Outside the sun was shining and glinting off the store windows, the clean, bright look of her surroundings contrasted strongly with the gloom of East Berlin. Strolling just a few yards down the street she spotted a small park with a fountain. Surrounded by small, trees overhead, bright red, yellow, and blue flowers, the fountain was lined in an aqua color, full of blazing orange goldfish. Gaby had never seen anything so exotic or so beautiful. After staring for some moments into the water watching the fish gliding through the water she noticed a shadow fall over her them. Sighing in resignation she turned to face the Russian.

It was warm hazel eyes that she found herself staring into rather than the iron blue eyes she had been expecting. The man was probably early twenty's, right around her age with a friendly smile. Noticeably taller than she was, and yet he did not tower over her like the Russian agent did. "Do you come her often?" he asked in a distinctly American accent. "No, I'm only visiting here, I've never seen this place before." Gaby replied trying not to gape at him. "Or anything like it" she added. It's a lovely place to have some quiet" he responded sitting down on the edge of the fountain. "I come here often to work on my schoolwork, it beats spending the day at hard desk or sitting on the floor in my apartment. He pulled out a small bag of fish seed from the pocket in his jacket which looked well made and well used. "So you go to university? She asked, desperately wishing she had something intelligent or vastly amusing to say. "Yes, I'm studying mechanics, I grew up working on cars and now I want to build planes". The young man was so obviously American and yet so different from Napoleon. His voice and whole expression radiated unending optimism, and yet he didn't seem overconfident or full of himself, he couldn't be upper class. He had grown up working and was pursing his passion by educating himself. After he introduced himself as James, Gaby told him her name was Sarah. He offered her some of the fish food pellets he had taken from his pocket. For a few golden minutes Gaby found herself wishing she could just be Sarah, feeding fish with a handsome American stranger, waiting to see where the day would take her. That was not to be her fate. Unnoticed by James or Sarah another shadow fell over both of them. They both continued to talk as if they had known each other their entire lives while a tall figure stood behind them as if made of stone. Watching. After a moment Gaby felt as if they were not alone and turned to find the Russian agent standing a few feet behind them, his face was a study. There was no telling if he was indifferent, annoyed, offended, or perhaps a good mixture of all three. Instead of staring at her this time, she found his icy gaze directed at the back of James' head. " _Well it's not as if he could be jealous"_ she thought to herself taking one last look at the fish swimming in sweet oblivion. "Are you ready to go?" She heard him ask. James had not noticed the tall Russian staring holes into the back of his head and started a little when he heard the thick Russian accent. "Yes dear" she responded as brightly as she could, trying to look more excited to be with her fiancé than she was to talk with a random university student from America. "It was nice to meet you James" she said turning to him as she stood. "Thank you for the company, and the fish food." "Anytime, Sarah" he said "look me up if you are ever in town again, I'd love to see you. Maybe we'll work on some cars together" he added with a cheeky grin and a wink. Something in the last part of his goodbye seemed to awaken the Russian statue. Gaby couldn't tell if it was the suggestion of working together on cars, or his winking at her but in seconds her hand was clasped in a cold iron grip and she was being led away at a brisk pace. Wanting to dare a glance back and yet not wanting to further provoke the large man pulling her along, she instead turned to him and asked why he didn't introduce himself to James. "Hmph! American men too familiar with other man's woman" he grumbled "you obviously engaged, still he flirt with you, in front of fiancé, maybe husband for all he know. If you were my woman for real, he wish I ignore him after such, such…" "putting the moves?" Gaby suggested, recalling a phrase she had heard Napoleon use regarding his own escapades. "Yes" he snapped "putting the moves, I would not permit". Giving her a pointed look to dismiss the topic he began to discuss the basics of their cover and ask her mission related questions about her uncle. _"Unbelievable"_ she thought _"the man is defensive of his cover honor and jealous over his fake fiancé!"_ Gaby rolled her eyes and tried not to show how absurd she found his behavior to be.


End file.
